


Soldiers Were Children Once

by sixbeforelunch



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Capitalism, Dominion War, Ferengi, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixbeforelunch/pseuds/sixbeforelunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quark understands these Federation types better than most Ferengi. This hasn't gotten him a moon yet, but maybe someday it will make him enough for a large asteroid. Set during the Dominion War, no specific spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldiers Were Children Once

_While holographic immersion interfaces--soon dubbed 'holodecks' or 'holosuites'--were nominally developed for training and scientific purposes, the recreational value of the technology was immediately apparent, even in the developmental stages. Indeed, the first purely recreational holoprogram was written by one of the pioneers of the sceince, T'Lasin of Vulcan. Designed to keep her children occupied while she worked, and provide them with mental and physical exercise at the same time, it was by modern standards a very simple program. The user was required to chase and capture complex three-dimensional objects and then fit them together to achieve a perfect square. When her human colleague, Vu Thoi, added music, rapidly shifting colors, and a clock counting down in the corner of the room, the game became "GeoFlash". The GeoFlash craze of 2358 to 2361 has been well documented elsewhere, but no history of holotech is complete without at least mentioning the statistic that in 2360, over eighty three percent of Terran youth under the age of 13 had played GeoFlash at least once._  
\-- _The Hard Edge of Light: A History of Holotechnology in the Federation_ by Bolade Tambo

"Junk. Junk. Oh, look, more junk." Quark shifted through the box in front of him with disdain that he didn't even have to feign. Broken Bajorian earring. Romulan honor blade (terrible idea to be caught with one of those for so many reasons). Bound, book-form Cardassian novel in bad condition. He tossed aside a broken, outdated Starfleet communicator and pulled out a small case. "What have we here. I'm guessing it's more junk."

The so-called trader shifted from foot to foot. Trader my lobes, Quark though. He was a down-and-out gambling addict desperate for one more spin at the dabo wheel. Poor bastard. Quark had already decided to give him a two bars for the whole box--he could afford to be generous when the man was clearly going to lose everything at Quark's tables in a few hours--but one had to make a show of it.

Inside the case were holoprograms. Bad holoprograms. He saw a few early Starfleet training programs, technically still classified even though they were so out of date. There was that short-lived serial produced on Betazed with the creepy guy who took you to historical sites and talked in a nasal voice about sewage systems on Ancient Trill. There was some first generation pornography. Quark shuddered at the memory of badly-proportioned, emotionally flat women. It had been like going to bed with a Vulcan whose breasts had been put on by a blind lemur.

One program caught his eye. He'd heard about GeoFlash somewhere, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. His lobes said profit, though he couldn't fathom why.

"One bar for the whole box, and that's being generous," Quark said, deciding that two bars was just too much, even if he was going to make it back later.

The man nodded eagerly, scooped up his money with a pathetic eagerness that made Quark almost feel sorry for him, and ran off to the welcoming, manipulative arms of a dabo girl.

Quark poured Morn a drink and tossed the box under the bar to be dealt with later.

Later turned out to be much later. It was a busy few days at the bar, thanks to a whole bunch of ships just back from the front lines depositing the battle-weary, grieving Starfleet officers who had proved to be such a profitable bunch. A few hours before closing time, the bar thinned out. Morn had stumbled off with a an off-duty dabo girl some time ago--all fine and good, Quark thought, but he hoped that she didn't think she would be anything but fired if things went south. When it came to a choice between an employee and his best customer, there was no choice.

Two humans sat at the end of the bar, one literally crying into his synthale, the other sympathetically patting him on the back and looking around for one of her friends to come get her out of it.

Quark pulled out the box again. The broken earring would go to a Bajorian charity organization that repaired them for people who couldn't afford to buy their own. No profit in that, but it wouldn't cost him anything and it would earn him points with the Bajorians on the station. The honor blade was headed for the nearest waste receptacle before the relative of whatever dead Romulan had carried it showed up and demanded to know what he was doing with it.

The comm badge...no, worthless. Waste receptacle for it too. And the Cardassian book. No value there.

He pondered over the holoprograms. The pornography was worthless. No one was going to pay for badly done and dull when they could have realistic and every kind of depraved instead.

GeoFlash. His lobes were tingling. There was profit to be made here, but how?

On a whim, he headed up to the holosuite and loaded up the program. Bad music assaulted his delicate ears as soon as he entered. Bright, garishly colored shapes floated in and out of his reach and a computerized voice said, "Level One. Ten minutes remaining. Five...four...three...two...one...build!"

Quark ignored the clock and stroked his lobes. In a sane world, this thing should be headed to the waste receptacles with the porn and the nasally-voiced Betazoid but these Federation types didn't exist in a sane world. They drank bubbly, cloyingly sweet liquids without any alcohol in them and after over a year of war, they still said things like, "If only we could get the Dominion to sit down and talk we could settle this," without a trace of irony in their voices.

Quark opened the doors but left the program running. He needed a few test subjects. Two human Starfleet crewmen were seated at a table, pushing around the remains of their dinner and not talking. Come to think of it, the Federation types had been less annoyingly idealistic of late. It was refreshing, but at the same time sad in ways that Quark didn't want to think about.

"Ladies," Quark said, stopping in front of their table. "You look like you could use a bit of diversion."

They looked at each other. "How much is this diversion going to cost?" the smaller of the two asked.

"For two heroic soldiers such as yourselves, it's on the house. Consider it my way of saying 'thank you' for your efforts to keep the Alpha Quadrant safe for capitalism."

"The Federation is anti-capitalist," the larger one felt compelled to point out.

"Except when it isn't," her companion said with a shrug.

Quark managed not to roll his eyes. Humans. Even when they couldn't make heads or tails of their philosophies, they were still ready to die for them.

"Come along, Ladies," Quark said, ushering them toward a holosuite. "If nothing else you can tell your friends that you got a free holosuite visit."

They followed reluctantly, but that changed the moment the doors to the holosuite slid open.

"GeoFlash!" the smaller one cried, as though she had just discovered a relative long thought dead. "Maria, remember GeoFlash?"

Maria was already running and jumping and capturing blocks and assembling them with a frightening speed. The computer beeped. "Level One complete. Level Two. Five...four...three..."

Maria grinned. "I once made it to Level Twenty Eight. I haven't seen this game in ages. You can't even find it anymore. I'm going to be here all night!"

Quark smiled. "First hour is free. Standard holosuite rates apply after that. Have a good time, ladies."

Quark smoothed his jacket out as he walked down the stairs. Profit. Oh, yes. The lobes never failed.

end


End file.
